an old writer and his words

  • NOVEMBER EVENING

    He sits calmly in the cornerof the restaurant redolent with curryand cardamom.He smiles, unseen,his third eyes staresdeeply felt on the backof my neck.Her eyes draw me inoffering a serenity,she smiles freelyand I recall the parkin the shadow of the mountainsthe soft touch of velvetand the empressalongside the fool.It is too soon donebut the soft furof…

    Lou Faber

  • NOVEMBER EVENING

    He sits calmly in the cornerof the restaurant redolent with curryand cardamom.He smiles, unseen,his third eyes staresdeeply felt on the backof my neck.Her eyes draw me inoffering a serenity.She smiles freelyand I recall the parkin the shadow of the mountainsthe soft touch of velvetand the empressalongside the fool.It is too soon donebut the soft furof…

    Lou Faber

  • THE PARK

    He was taking a shortcut across the park. He saw the clouds building, about to bring the long-promised rain. He wasn’t sure why he decided to walk home rather than take the bus as he usually did. He didn’t like to walk, but the doctor had told him he needed to exercise more, and he…

    Lou Faber

  • AFFIXED

    I can only begin to imaginehow utterly strange I must lookto the Great Blue Heron standingin the wetland behind our home.What must he make of this odd creaturewith thick legs that seemdisproportionately short comparedto their bodies, why their neckshave such limited mobility, whythey cannot look behind themselvesor scratch their chins with their toes.But the birds…

    Lou Faber

  • WINDOWS

    The problem, she says,is that we think that windows are thereto look out of, to see the world outside.If you believe that, she adds, whydo half the windows on your houseoffer you a view of the house next door,or if you must live in New York Citythe windows of another apartmentor building, knowing they havethe…

    Lou Faber

  • LURKING

    You lurk behind meas I sit at the islandboth the messenger and the message.You appear magicallyon my chair back, your tailwrapping my neck, a mink like scarfregardless of the temperature.I hear a slowly growing rumbleas if with my ear to the groundI can sense a distant temblor.And then there is the flickof dampened sandpaper on…

    Lou Faber

  • CORAGYPS ATRATUS

    They sit on the barren tree staring at what we cannot fathom. They are strangely beautiful creatures and utterly odd looking as well. Their black plumage is entrancing, more so when put on display by extended wings. But inevitably it is their head and neck that draws the eye. Gray against the ebony of their…

    Lou Faber

  • ON THE WING

    From watching them in flightI know that great egrets flywith their hinge neck folded inwhile Sandhill cranes extend theirs. By listening carefully, I knowthe cry of the male limpkin, his lowerthan his female partner, whilethe cry of the hawk only creates fearin those who might be its prey, andthe male Cardinal showsinfinite patience calling outfor…

    Lou Faber

  • SOZAN’S RAISING LIVESTOCK

    In an open fieldif I come upona wild oxand place a yokeon its neck.Is it the yokeor the oxor is it Ithat is tamed? A reflection on Case 70 of Dogen’s Shobogenzo Koans (True Dharma Eye)

    Lou Faber

  • WE FIND OURSELVES

    We are wholly innocentwe are wracked with guilt.There is nothing we did,but what is there that wedid not do, that we should have done, that wemight have said so it wouldnever have happened, orhappened less, or happeneddespite everything we did? We carry our innocenceas a badge, we wear our guiltas an albatross around our neck,dragging…

    Lou Faber